His Stupid Shirt

After an exceptionally trying day with the kids, I decided to take a long hot bath. Pandora playing Willie Waylon and Johnny. It was my moment of zen. Or I thought.

After I got out of the tub I dried off and grabbed Mikes green undershirt shirt. It was up over my head, not even fully on when his scent hit me and without so much as an exhale I crumpled to the ground in tears. I held the shirt to my face and bawled, a loud ugly cry. I don't know why exactly. I can't even describe the emotion.

I have washed this shirt 2 dozen times since he died. I guess wearing it daily for 20 years leaves a permanent trace. 

Like his scent on the shirt he's left a mark on my heart. I will never fully be over him. 

I take two steps forward and one back. 

My heart is open to new possibilities but as long as there is a scent on this shirt I will be holding on to the past. My rational brain says I need to toss it. My heart says keep it by my face when I sleep tonight. Just one more night.

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